


The Man Who Survived

by winlark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, F/M, Gen, Headmaster Remus Lupin, M/M, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Professor Harry Potter, Remus Lupin Lives, Resurrection Stone (Harry Potter), Reunions, Short & Sweet, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Fluff, Wolfstar Reunion, wolfstar reunited in the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winlark/pseuds/winlark
Summary: A reworking of the Harry Potter epilogue from Remus' POV, in which he survived the war and went on to live a full and beautiful life.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	The Man Who Survived

With each passing year, Autumn seemed to arrive just a little bit earlier. It cycled so fast now that the years almost bled together, one running into another in a rhythm that he was long grateful for. It hadn’t always been like this, but this was nice, Remus could admit.

The early years after the war had been the hardest when it was just him, Harry, and Teddy. He had made good on Sirius’ promise and given Harry as much of a real family as he could muster. There were of course nights when between the impending moon, Harry’s screams, and Teddy’s cries that it had seemed unbearable, but he had pushed through. He had gone to Harry’s room and let him weep for the friends and the world and the childhood he had lost. He had rocked Teddy back and forth in his arms until the infant soothed and returned to sleep. He had turned violently and he had turned peacefully, but he knew most importantly, he had survived.

He maneuvered Kings Cross Station less quickly than he had in his youth. It had changed so much that besides the boning of the place it hardly resembled the station it had been all those years ago. Yet, there was still the sound of trolleys and the gangle of children that only seemed to appear on the first of September. Children, that somehow seemed out of place from the rest of the fast paced modern world.

“Grandpapa!” A small voice chirped up from beside him, and Remus felt a small hand grab his pinkie finger.

“Why hello!” He said with a smile, turning and stooping down the best he could to meet the eyes of the tiny Molly Potter. She was his first great granddaughter, just turned nine, and was every much as charismatic and brave as all the Potters who had come before her. She had two elder twin brothers going into their third year, but he couldn’t see them through the massive crowded station.

“So I was thinking.” She started. “That because you’re my grandpapa _and_ the Headmaster _and_ because I’ve already finished my summer homework that I might come to Hogwarts this year.”

“Oh?” He said raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I have it planned, first you’re going to tell dad that you haven’t seen me, then you’re going to tell Grandpa that he needs new glasses or is going senile because it is _not_ Molly Potter sitting inDefense Against the Dark Arts. I’m not sure how to trick the hat though, because I assume he knows my age, but we can discuss that on the train!”

“Well then…” he paused, trying not to laugh. “The hat is certainly going to be an obstacle but I’m sure we can solve it.”  
“Oh, there’s dad and Alex and Archie!” She cried, and she grabbed the corner of Remus’ cloak, hiding underneath it.

“Molly!” James Potter called in a sheer panic, pushing through the crowds of people. The twins, looking thoroughly unimpressed, and pushing large trolleys with owls strapped to the top of each paved the way after him.

“Grandpa!” James said, relief flooding his face. “Please tell me you have Molly?”  
“Molly? Molly Potter?” He mused. “No, I don’t seem to recall knowing any Molly Potter I’m afraid. She is _definitely_ not hiding under my cloak. No, that must be a pesky boggart who looks like Molly and has asked me to break nearly one hundred school rules, and abuse my position as headmaster to bring her to Hogwarts early.”

“Hey!” She said, stepping out from her hiding spot. “That is not what I said!”  
James rolled his eyes but did not seem surprised. “Come on you lot! We’re going to miss the train!”

They made their way toPlatform 9 3/4, and crossed easily to where the Hogwarts Express stood waiting. Molly went on at length about her summer and how she had punched a boy at Quidditch Camp for insinuating that pre-war werewolf laws had been good for society. She had always been very proud that she had a werewolf for a grandpapa, so much so that Remus had often had to talk her down from shouting it in muggle filled spaces. Of course, she didn’t understand the implications of what the world was like before Hermione Granger had gutted and eradicated the worst of the laws, but it made him fiercely proud of her none the less.

Remus made his way onto the train and into an empty compartment. Unsurprisingly, he would be the only member of faculty on the train, although Harry had offered to apparate down and make the journey with him. Like most of the other professors, Harry had arrived at Hogwarts weeks ago in preparation for the students, but Remus knew that in his old age Harry worried for him, although he needn’t. He had lived his life within an extent that he had never thought truly possible, with family tucked away in every corner on the globe. There was of course still his lycanthropy,though potions had come so far that it seemed but a distant bad memory. While he might be prone to fits of painting or dancing on the full moon, the newest version of the wolfsbane potion was easily accessible and could stop transformation completely if taken on the morning of the full moon.

Remus closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in Hogsmeade station, the train rolling gently to a halt and blowing its horn to wake up any lingering students. He stood up, gently dusting off his robes and grabbing his single trunk from underneath his seat. He slipped out of the carriage and by the gawking first years, taking his own carriage up to the castle. There was an art to his next actions, and in his many years as headmaster he had almost perfected it. Give or take, he’d come into the hall about three minutes after the sorting started, but if anyone cared they hadn’t said anything to him about it.

He would go to his office, and like all the years before he would make one single choice. Once that choice was made, he would sit at his desk, and he would recount aloud the names of everyone, and everything that he had lost. He would dwell on his friends, on the people he loved, and then he would return to the banquet and look at the fresh faces that had never know war and vow that they never would.

But the choice was the hardest to make. The answer of course was always no, but the prospect of yes was the greatest temptation he had ever felt.

In the years following the war, back when the potion was still being perfected, but after he had been appointed as the defense against the dark arts teacher, he had spent his full nights roaming the woods in full control of the wolf. It turned out to be a great teaching tool, as students for the first time could assess a werewolf without danger or potential harm. It was on one of those full nights that he stumbled upon the stone, glistening and gleaming on the forest floor as though it was calling for him. When he scooped it into his mouth, he could have sworn he saw a large dog and a stag mirrored momentarily beside him, but in later years he chalked that up to an overreactive imagination.

But he knew what he had found the moment he saw it- the resurrection stone.

Harry had taken the news well, or as well as any trauma ridden twenty something could take the news. It was before he had started teaching- when he was hopelessly trailing after Ginny Weasley as she became a prominent quidditch star. Remus knew that there was still a part of Harry so broken from the war that there were days that felt like he might lose him after all. But he also knew that sometimes healing meant accepting pain instead of being shielded from it.

“Harry.” Lupin had said over tea one evening. “I’ve found the resurrection stone.”

Harry went pale and quiet, only looking up at him after several silent minuets had passed. “Would you throw it in the lake if I asked you?”  
Remus looked into his own cup of tea, swirling it around to disturb the settled leaves at the bottom. “If that’s what you wish Harry, I will oblige of course. But…”  
“You want to talk to Sirius.” Harry finished.

Remus just nodded. “I thought I’d be dead. With him- with them.”

Harry thought on this. “It’s not worth it, but I’m not going to stop you. If the stone eventually dies with you, then so be it.” And he stood up, clattered his cup into the sink and sulked out the front door.

Heat crept up Remus’ neck, but he swallowed his pride. In the morning he apologized to Harry, and the two never spoke of the matter again. While every year before the start of term feast he retreated to his office to marvel at the possibilities of using the stone, just once, he never did out of respect for Harry.

Yet somehow, this year felt different. As he let himself into the office, he felt as though in crossing the barrier he was somehow lighter. He could feel the stone almost buzzing from across the room where it stood suspended in a thick grey fog. The enchantment itself was not dangerous, but the unlocking was tedious enough to dissuade an intruder from taking, or using the stone. Remus set to work, ordering and undoing, summoning and conjuring until with a soft and final clink, the stone dropped to the floor.

He closed his eyes, and when they reopened he was staring at at none other than Sirius- his Sirius. He was so young, only thirty-six when he had died. But at the time that hadn’t felt young. It wasn’t only until the years started creeping up, when seventy rounded into eighty and one hundred past by that thirty-six seemedlike the cruelest of jokes. There were picture- he kept his favorites on his desk, but it hardly could compare to having him there. He was almost tangible, but even with the minute differences that marked him as dead separate from the living, the tiny details of his face so lost in photos gave Remus pause.

“Moony.” He said. “Ready to join me yet?”

“Oh Sirius. It’s the start of term,I need to at least see out the year! Appoint a new headmaster! There’s so much work that I need to do and I haven’t the time to do it.”

Sirius smiled at him then. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus looked up at him through tired eyes, and sat down at his desk. “I really shouldn’t have brought you here. It was foolish, impulsive. I’ve gone how many years without touching that stone and then I bring you back for what? A chat when I’ve already got one foot in the grave so to speak?”

Sirius laughed, but didn’t say anything. He simple began to walk the office, taking in all the portraits. If he shamelessly flirted with McGonagall and made a rude gesture to Snape, Remus did not chide him. It almost felt like the days when they were students at Hogwarts, with Remus’ scribbling furiously on parchment and Sirius being wild and beautifully chaotic.

“Right.” Remus said after what felt like a small eternity. “Right, I need to put the stone back, and I need to head down to the feast. This is ridiculous. I’m quite sorry, I doubt this has been very pleasant and I should have known better, I just missed you so much.”

“You’re not holding the stone my love.” Sirius said.

And he was right, Remus realized with a start. The stone was still lying on the floor, enchantments undone and there for anyone to grab. From one blink to the next, Sirius became tangible, and he was lost in his arms, a younger man than he ever remembered being.

Somewhere in that moment, the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place. He had already done his job ten times over, he realized. He had lived for all the Marauders for all those years. He had taken in the orphans, and misfits, and casualties of the war. He had fought with them, and after everything was done, he had seen peace. He had seen it when Harry, so wise beyond his thirty-eight years had sat him down and told him that he and Ginny were expecting and they wanted him to consider himself as much of a grandfather as Arthur. He had seen it when Teddy proclaimed that he was going to travel the world and paint for a living. He had seen it when the twins asked him for stories about what life was like before the wolfsbane potion, and when little Molly had told him that only cool grandpapas were werewolves.

And if he heard from the other side the melancholy cheers of the mourning procession, he did not let the other knows. For with every good death, even death after a long life, there was always a certain bitterness that lingered. But there was Sirius with his wicked grin kissing his face where there was once scars, James and Lily hand in hand, hugging him and telling him how they couldn’t have asked for more for Harry. There was Tonks, stood back from the others but still telling him how marvelous of a father he was to Teddy. There was everyone and everything he had missed for so very long and they were enough.

So yes, when he heard the words from Harry himself “To Remus Lupin! The man who survived!” He simply smiled. For he knew, in his heart, that all was well.


End file.
